


The Castex Experiment

by mrua7



Series: Ladies First: the women of UNCLE [5]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4806875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon and Illya are off to the Caribbean for their assignment to ferret out THRUSH's latest plans. They get their answers, but not in a way they planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

  
  
  
Napoleon Solo was a man made to wear a tuxedo. His suave and charming demeanor as well as that expensive tux granted him entrance to the posh soiree being hosted poolside at the mansion currently occupied by Dr. Emile-Georges Castex.

 The fact that Solo had motored in to the private dock from a forty foot yacht anchored off shore helped seal the deal...that and a forged gold embossed invitation.

 His cover was that of a wealthy investor, just the sort that Castex was courting to fund his operation. Precisely what that operation was, U.N.C.L.E. had no idea.

 “Be careful my friend,” Kuryakin whispered as he helped his partner from the dingy to the dock. “I will not be close enough to give you immediate backup should you get in trouble.” Illya was dressed in a light polo shirt, and dark bathing trunks, suitable to the Carribean climate, though the temperatures were quite comfortable, given the Russian's dislike of the heat.

 “Understood. This is a reconnoiter only so it should be a quick in and out.”

 “Speaking of in and out, please do not fraternize with any of the ladies in attendance?” Illya now spoke into his microphone to his partner, testing it out.

 “No more than necessary chum, scouts honor,” Napoleon touched his finger to his earpiece.

 “That is what I am afraid of...and take your hand away from your ear. If I can see it, others could as well.”

 Solo chuckled. “Always the worrier partner mine.”

 “Someone has to do it.” That was the last thing the Russian said as he let go the mooring line and began his trip back to the yacht. He lifted a warm bottle of cola to his lips, taking a long sip.

 His recurring issue with sea sickness when on board a boat had been resolved with his discovery of a non-drowsy version of Dramamine. That along with his homemade ginger tablets and of course, drinking warm coca-cola worked quite nicely for what would Illya hoped be an uneventful stint on the water.

 It was only if a storm churned up the water that could potentially cause him trouble, but since the Marine forecast was for calm seas; that was good enough for Kuryakin to not be overly concerned about his being seasick.

 Napoleon strolled up the long flight of stairs snaking along the tree covered the cliff-side leading to the house; His eyes took in everything, surveying a neatly manicured terrace off to his left leading back down to the bulkhead that held back the waters of the inlet.

 He spotted a lift, hidden from view by the trees.The only thing of note was a small bunker, grey metal with steps leading down to a door; very much out of place with the lavish decor above.

Outside the bunker stood two men; one young ginger-haired man dressed casually; he seemed to be arguing with the other whom Napoleon instantly recognized as a strong arm long in the employ of T.H.R.U.S.H.

The man sported a shaved head now and was wearing a black patch over one eye, that injury having been caused by none other than Kuryakin during their last encounter.

 Solo pretended to clear his throat, speaking into his radio transmitter hidden under the lapel of his tux. “Illya bad news, Theo Boucher is here.”

 “Do you think I should come ashore and take over the duties of one of the waiters? After all Boucher knows your face as well, you will need backup.”

 “That’s a negative, just stay put.”

Napoleon moved swiftly but casually as he arrived at the upper terrace, mingling among the guest who surrounded a lavish built in swimming pool, he grabbed a champagne cocktail from a tray as a waiter passed by.

A pianist was playing non-descript music that blended with the cacophony of conversation.

Solo took a sip from his fluted glass, speaking in hushed tones this time.

”The guest list reads like a who’s who of the financiers of the world, the kind that like to back people of dubious reputations that is. Though there’s still a few people I don’t recognize.”

“Get pictures.”

Solo reached over to his cufflink as he raised his glass to his lips again, and pressing a tiny button; he activated a hidden camera. As he scanned the crowd, he took at least a half-dozen shots. The last one of which focused on the lovely cleavage of a blonde in a low cut silvery gown, the metallic material of which clung to her body yet was still quite revealing..

She was lithe but muscular, and curved in all the right places, from the looks of it 36-22-36. His libido kicked in on automatic.

“Hello there,” Napoleon smiled, reached out and grabbing another glass of champagne as a waiter passed by. He offered it to the woman who immediately responded to his exuding charms.

“Napoleon…” Illya growled a warning into his ear.

“Just mingling chum,” he whispered before raising his voice to introduce himself. “King, Edward King, and you are my dear?”

 “Honey, last name Dearest, just so there’s no confusion...handsome.”

“Well my my, aren’t you just the sweetest thing,” he crooned.

“And aren’t you just so typical. How boring. Au revoir Mr. King,” she stuck her pretty little nose in the air and giving him the cold shoulder; she turned, walking  away from him.

“Shut up,” Napoleon said; hearing his partner snickering.

Strolling to the terrace edge and leaning on the white marble railing, Solo looked down at the bunker again. Boucher and the other man were gone.  No sign of a guard.

He turned, surveying the crowd again. and spotted Theo heading in his direction, though it didn’t seem as though the man had seen him yet.  It was time for a distraction.

“Illya I’m going to check out that bunker.”

“Napoleon may I remind you this is supposed to be…”

“Yes I know so don’t get your knickers in a bunch, I’ll be fine.”

“So much for scouts honor,” Kuryakin mumbled.

“I heard that…”

 

Napoleon moved towards the pool and in one swift motion he managed to push several people into the water, including the blonde who snubbed him; creating quite the diversion as her flimsy dress literally floated up and away from her.

While everyone’s attention was mainly on the nude woman splashing about in the pool, the American took off towards the lift; he stepped on board the glass conveyance and rode it down to the unguarded terrace where the bunker was located.

As he stepped out, he saw the casually dressed man again standing at the top of the bunker steps, smoking a cigarette and walked directly to him.

“Pardon me, but I seem to be somewhat lost. I’m looking for Doctor Castex. I’m supposed to be meeting with him shortly.”

“Oh, why yes. He’s in the lab. I’m going back down myself,” the ginger haired young man had a definite Irish accent.” I can let him know yer here, though he’s a bit busy right at the moment.”

“Oh that won’t be necessary…” Napoleon said, pretending to check his pockets. “I seemed to have forgotten my checkbook. Can’t give the good doctor any funding without it can I?” ”Napoleon bluffed. His name being announced could blow his cover as there was no Edward King on the guest list and Dr. Castex would know that.

“Fine suit yerself,” the young man eyed him suspiciously.

Solo slapped the man on the back, quickly planting a listening device just under his collar. “I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced. My name is Edward King, of King Industries.”

“Oh, yes, ummm. My name is Peadar,” he took a long drag on his cigarette before tossing it to the ground and snuffing it with his shoe.From the looks of it he was a heavy smoker for a young guy, as there were quite a few butts laying on the concrete floor beside the entrance.

“Smoking’s not good for your health Peadar,” Napoleon acted rather chummy.

“Yeah yeah, not like I haven’t heard the likes of that before Mr. King. Now I need to be off, the doctor is about to run a test, sort of a show for the guests. You might want ta go back up poolside as you’ll get the better view there.”

"Thanks. At least I know where to go now for my meeting. Thanks Peadar.”

“Sure no problem.” Peadar hopped down the three steps to the door and there Solo watched him, making note of the careless manner in which he entered the entrance code and disappeared, closing the door behind him.

“Napoleon, do not do inside there,” Illya said.” The listening device you planted on him will suffice.”

“Well I think I’ll wait for the moment. Let’s see what this demonstration is all about.”

“I will repeat myself,” Illya said.”Please be careful.”

“Always chum, always.”

 Napoleon looked out at the sky as he made his way back to the lift staring at a darkening clouds and hoed  the listening device he’d planted would give them the details they needed to uncover Dr. Castex’ plan.

 He scanned the crowd as he stepped from the elevator, looking for Theo Boucher.

“Napoleon perhaps it is time for you to get out of there before you are discovered. You know the entry code, and we can use our scuba gear to return at night to check it out if we must.”

“We’ll see. I just want to observe this test, whatever it is.”

He walked to the railing following suit with the other guests.

 A voice came over a loudspeaker, directing the guests attention to the inlet. It was Dr. Castex.

 “Ladies and gentlemen, s'il vous plaît, if you would be so kind as to watch the sky. I think this little demonstration will speak for itself and you will most assuredly be generous with your money to back my endeavor. Allez…”

“Mister Solo,“ a voice said from behind the agent.

 Napoleon felt something hard being pressed against his back.

 “Is that your gun or you just happy so see me?” He quipped, recognized the voice of Boucher.

 “Always with the smart remarks Solo,” the Thrushman answered.” So if you’re here, where is that Russian friend of yours? He can’t be far away.”

 “Sorry to say I’m not quite sure, though last I heard he was somewhere in the Alps destroying yet another of your employer’s strongholds.” He turned to see Honey Dearest standing beside the Thrusman, dressed in a dark blue velour jumper.

  
"Oh so you're Napoleon Solo," she flashed a feral smile."So I presume it was you who were responsible for my being pushed into the pool." She reached inside Napoleon's jacket, removing his gun and communicator.  
  
"Umm, sorry about that; I needed a diversion. You understand these things, my...Dearest."  
  
She slapped him across that face. "That's for my dunking!" She slapped him again.  
  
"And what was that for?"  
  
"Because of your tacky puns with my name. I'm so tired of men doing that."  
  
"Moi, tacky?" He laughed at her.  
  
"Enough!" Boucher barked.

 

Illya ran his fingers through his hair, nervously listening to the conversation  He cursed Solo’s ability to complicate matters at times as he should have left as soon as he’d planted the bug. Illya was convinced now he would have been better off ignoring his partner and gone in as a waiter, at least he’d be there to get Napoleon out of trouble.  
  
There was no use kicking himself now, what was the point?

 “You bolvan, you just had to stay there!” Illya stood from his chair, pacing back and back and forth; his head racing with ideas over what he should do.

  
The wind began to pick up out over the water as the demonstration began to get underway.

 Boucher pressed a finger to his ear, listening to his own microphone.

 "Let him watch, then bring him down to me. I want to meet the famous Napoleon Solo,” Emile-Georges Castex said.

 “With pleasure Doctor,” Boucher smiled…”Mr. Solo, if you would just divert your attention to the water, you’ll get just a taste of Dr. Castex’ plan.” He pushed Napoleon against the marble railing so he'd have essentially a front row seat.

 Solo watched as the sky became black, but the only thing he was focusing on was the yacht where his partner was.

 “Looks like that yacht there is in for some stormy weather,” he tried warning Illya, though he had no idea what idea was actually about to happen.

 Illya heard the low rumble of thunder in the distance and cursed silently to himself. He’d laid down his headset, and never heard Napoleon’s warning.

 He stood, watching a pen he’d left on the desk began to roll as the yacht seemed to be swaying more.

 A coffee mug fell to the deck, smashing into dozens of pieces, but he didn’t bother cleaning it up. Instead, Illya quickly climbed topside, immediately seeing foreboding black clouds rolling surrounding him.

 A vicious streak of lightning shot across the sky, followed by a loud clap of thunder.

 How could a storm like this appear in just the snap of a finger? It was clear only a few minutes ago? He found that odd, as well as the inaccuracy of the the marine forecast.

 There was only one option, and that was ride out the storm where he was; heading out to sea alone would be ill advised.

 As the yacht began violently sway and pitch, nausea reared itself in the Russian’s stomach. Despite his precautions, he was going to be seasick, but that was  the least of his worries.

 A large wave crashed over the bow, sending the yacht listing to the starboard side. Illya grabbed onto a safety line, holding on for dear life as the boat righted itself just as the sky opened up.

 That did it, his stomach erupted in protest and Illya spewed across the deck.

 “What did it matter?” He asked himself as he ran his sleeve across his mouth. The rain and the waves would clear away the mess, but hopefully he would not go overboard with it as well.

 Illya staggered, grabbing onto anything as the boat was thrown about like a toy. Despite battening down everything he could, the yacht was taking on too much water.

 Black smoke began billowing up from the cabin. This time Kuryakin curse loudly.

 “Chyort voz’mi!” He held on for dear life; the boat nearly capsizing as another violent wave hit it.

 He now had another decision to make, hang in as long as he could while the boat sank and dive last minute into the churning water, or try to make it into the dingy.

 Illya grabbed a life vest, and reaching for his communicator from his pocket to call his partner...another wave hit, knocking both from his hand.

 As he slowly made his way to the stern of the boat, trying to wipe the water from his eyes with his wet sleeve and another wave hit, this time a huge one.

 Illya lost his grip and was thrown over the side. He had hold of a mooring line but couldn’t maintain his grip on the slippery rope. In a state of near exhaustion, he finally fell into the dark water and was pulled under...


	2. Chapter 2

Napoleon kept his attention on the yacht and watched in horror as a blinding storm erupted above it, violently churning the water and sending massive waves crashing against the boat like it was a toy in a bathtub.

Somehow the storm was contained just there, not affecting anyone standing out on the terrace, watching the scene unfold.  There wasn’t even as much as a touch of a breeze.

Vicious bolts of lightning shot across the sky immediately followed by cracks of thunder so loud that one could feel it vibrate beneath their feet.

Napoleon saw Illya come on deck, struggling against the waves pounding the boat. A life jacket was washed from his hand and he almost went over the side had he not grabbed onto a rope.

Smoke erupted below deck and as black smoke poured out, Illya seemed to be retreating towards the aft, to the dinghy,Solo presumed.

Even if he were to make it, chances are it would be capsized and without a life preserver, though Illya was a strong swimmer; the chances of his survival were slim at best.

The Russian never made it to the stern, as a wave swept him overboard and beneath the water near the foundering boat.

“I think you’ve seen enough Mr. Solo,” Boucher shoved him.

Without warning, Napoleon turned and grabbed the man’s gun, wrenching from his hand while giving him a right uppercut to the chin with his other hand.

Boucher reeled for a second as Solo raised the gun to shoot him, but the American was thwarted in his efforts as two other lackeys grabbed him from behind.

The gun went off, but fired into the air.

Boucher retrieved his weapon, wrenching it from Solo’s grip and in return for the uppercut; he brought the butt of the gun down on the American’s head.

Some of the guests scattered like cockroaches, but the Thrushman called out to them.

“Please remain calm, just an unwanted guest. Nothing over which to trouble yourselves.  If you would please make your way back into the house where Miss Dearest is waiting to discuss financial arrangements with you, that is if you were impressed with Doctor Castex’s little demonstration. Merci.”

The guards dragged off the half-conscious Solo between them to the elevator, taking him down to the lower terrace and into the bunker. The very place Napoleon wanted to go, but not under the current circumstance.

The corridor leading inside was dimly lit, with a brighter light at what seemed to be the end of it.

When they finally exited into the light Napoleon was able to walk on his own, though a little unsteady on his feet.

To the left of the grey-walled room were control panels filled with an array of flashing lights, along with several large video screens. The ginger-haired Peadar was seated there at what looked like a main control console. To the right were a number of chairs, set in tiers obviously for viewing what took place on the screens.

Behind the chairs on the uppermost tier was grey metallic desk; sitting at it was a raven-haired man sporting a goatee, perhaps in his late forties. His clothing was the same sterile color grey of the room.

The UNCLE agent was escorted directly in front of the desk, though the guards remained on either side of him.

"Ah at last, the famous Napoleon Solo. So we finally meet,” the man spoke with French accent

“I’m sorry, you have me at a disadvantage...and you are?”Napoleon couldn’t resist, taking a page from Illya’s playbook at annoying his captors.

The doctor’s face went red for a second, as obviously Solo’s little slight had gotten to him.

“Je suis le grand Emile-Georges Castex vous paon pompeuse d'un homme."I am the great Emile-Georges Castex you pompous peacock of a man.”

“My my, didn’t your dear mère tell you that name calling was ill mannered...as is bragging?”

Castex laughed. “You’re attempts to goad me will not work Monsieur. Turning his attention from the American; he flipped a switch on a nearby console.

“Any sign of Monsieur Kuryakin?”

“Negative sir,” Peadar answered.”No sign of his body as of yet. The remains of the yacht have been towed to shore, though it’s pretty burned out. I suspect we won’t find much of interest as there seems to be little left of the insides. Still the men are checking it with a fine tooth comb. They’re also trolling with nets ta try and find the body, though I suspect sharks might have had at it already, so there might not be much left of the poor bastard."

  
  


.

 

“Dommage. Vous avez mes condoléances pour le décès de votre partenaire Monsieur Solo_too bad. (You have my condolences on the death of your partner Mr. Solo.)

Napoleon gave the man no satisfaction upon hearing the Peadar's decree. Though inside he winced at hearing it. He couldn't believe Illya was dead, not yet. Kuryakin was not only like a cat in the way he moved, but he seemed to have nine lives as well.

“Wait…” Napoleon corrected himself again, “Illya ran out of those nine lives a long time ago. Simple fact was that the Russian was a survivor. He only hoped his partner had done it again....

Solo shook that thought from his mind. It was time to concentrate on Castex and what he’d done out there. Typically T.H.R.U.S.H. liked to brag, and he hoped this one was no exception to that unwritten rule.

“So Doctor, what’s this little setup you have here all about?”

“Little? I hardly think that Mr. Solo. Come with me and …” he paused, turning his attention to the guards. “I trust he has been relieved of all of those nasty U.N.C.L.E. gadgets and toys?”

“Yes sir. we got everything.”

They had indeed taken Napoleon’s watch with the timer for the explosive putty, which they took out of the hollowed out heel of his shoe. They found his lockpick in the hem of his trouser leg, his exploding cuff links...of course his communicator and gun and his ear bud...not that Illya could talk to him anymore."

Napoleon smiled inwardly, as thankfully there was something they’d missed.  He wouldn’t make his move just yet as he wanted to find out what Castex was up to first.

“Please, Mr. Solo if you would be so good as to follow me?”

Dr. Castex slipped down from his chair and nearly disappeared down behind his desk. As he walked into view, gesturing for Solo to follow him, Napoleon was surprised at the man’s stature.  If he was five feet tall, that was stretching it.

He refrained from making a ‘Napoleon complex’ assumption but it was difficult not to think that of the ‘great’ Emile-Georges Castex, as the man had referred to himself.

Solo, still flanked by his guards walked down the stairs to the main control console where Peadar was seated.

The young man removed his headset, looking to the American. So not Mr. King is it?”

“No Peadar, this is Napoleon Solo, UNCLE’s foremost agent and a fitting adversary for one such as myself.  Would you be so good as to explain what we are doing here?”

“Yes sir Mr. Castex. I’ll try to use simple words ta help you understand.”

“Gee thanks,” Napoleon quipped.

 

“You see we’ve bombarded the clouds with electromagnetic radiation, released  by certain electromagnetic processes. It consists of electromagnetic waves, which are synchronized oscillations of electric and magnetic fields that propagate at the speed of light. The oscillations of the two fields are perpendicular to each other and perpendicular to the direction of energy and wave propagation causing them to form transverse waves.

These waves are produced whenever charged particles are accelerated and can interact with any charged particles. EM waves carry energy, momentum and angular momentum away from their source particle and can impart those quantities to matter with which they interact. In other words by using this electromagnetic energy we can get a storm of massive concentration to form in a very specific controlled area."

“Yes, that was a simplified explanation wasn’t it?” Napoleon blandly commented;  secretly wishing Illya were here as he would have been able to ask a few pointed questions. Thrushies were all too willing to explain their schemes,  sometimes with little prodding at all, but by doing so, they set themselves up for a fall, 

He watched Peadar like a hawk as the young man pointed to the specific controls needed to get the desired results.  It was that part of the panel Napoleon knew he needed to destroy...

“Yes Mr. Solo, it’s quite a simplistic plan. We simply need to seed the clouds with silver iodide, potassium iodide and solid carbon dioxide, to aide the the production of precipitation, and then bombarding the clouds with the electromagnetic waves...well you saw the result, as did your late partner.

“You know you won’t succeed,” Napoleon muttered.

“And who’s going to stop me...you?” Castex laughed maniacally.

Solo smiled, knowing the man’s overconfidence would be his eventual undoing.

  
T.H.R.U.S.H. never learn...


	3. Chapter 3

  
                                  
  
Napoleon remained still, continuing to study the control panel while trying to ignore Castex as he bellowed with laughter.  
  
The man was finally silenced when several other guards entered the control room; dressed in typical green T.H.R.U.S.H. coveralls and wearing black berets. One of them was a little short compared to the others and seemed to be staying behind them as if he were trying to remain out of view.

There was something very familiar with the man’s gait and realizing that, Napoleon smiled again for a second time.

Following after the guards, a platinum haired woman sauntered in; her sultry walk exuded confidence. Her presence immediately wiped the grin from Solo’s lips.

“Welcome Miss Le Chien,” Dr. Castex oozed.”And what did you think of my little demonstration?”

She ignored him, focusing her attention instead upon Napoleon.

Walking directly to him, she grabbed Solo by his bow tie, pulling him to her waiting lips. When they parted, she quickly whispered into his ear. “Russian is here.”

“Miss Le Chien!” Castex blurted out. He was astonished to see such fraternization between a THRUSH woman and an UNCLE agent, but then Angelique's reputation preceeded her. She was no ordinary woman, and there were things about her the good doctor detested.

She was here to observe his experiment and report back to Central on its success and Castex was not happy about his project being in her hands.

“Please Doctor, Mr. Solo and I are old acquaintances and what happens between the two of us is my business, understood?”

Emile shook his head, not able to fathom such things. He had no patience for women's games and to him they did not belong as field operatives; still they had their uses for other things. Honey Dearest, after all made for a superior body guard, but then again she was completely obedient to his every command. Le Chien had too much power in his estimation. The little man shook himself free of those thoughts for the moment.

“You didn’t answer my question. What did you think of the demonstration?”

Angelique smiled, slithering around behind Napoleon, running her hands along his body.

“Oh Emile...may I call you Emile? You mustn't focus on business all the time. We can talk about that later. Perhaps Mr. Solo is a bit hungry, I know I am. Let’s go upstairs to the mansion and have a bit of a repast, n’est ce pas? “

Castex wasn’t happy with her tip toeing around answering him, but since she was Central’s representative he had to play her little game for now. Once word of the success of his work as well as the death of Illya Kuryakin was made known, his seat on the Council would be guaranteed.

He detested game playing, and this one was well known for that, perhaps too much to his liking. The way she kissed Solo, and how she touched him told Castex she’d slept with the man. He had no doubt of it. That to him was completely unacceptable. Sleeping with the enemy has it's uses but, the end result of which should be disposing of said enemy, and since Solo was still alive... He would see to it that his woman met with an unfortunate accident once he had the power of the Council in his corner.

“Fine Angelique...if I may call you that? Dining arrangements shall be made.” Castex pressed a button on the console and moments later Honey Dearest appeared.

“My Dearest please see to it that dinner is ready.”

She looked at the doctor, canting her head as she studied the others. “How many Doctor?"

“Setting for six.” You will be joining us as will Monsieur Boucher. The other guests?"

"Have all left Doctor, and they were quite generous in supporting your project," Honey nodded as she smiled  
  
"Excellent," Dr. Castex grinned.

  
The guards escorted Solo, accompanied by the blonde temptress to the green terrace outside the bunker.

“Ladies first,” Napoleon said as the door opened, though he was still handcuffed and was unable to gesture.

As they walked towards the elevator, all hell broke suddenly loose.

The smaller guard slammed the other two with his rifle butt, knocking one out and darting them both into silence.

“I knew it was you,” Solo smiled, seeing his partner’s blue eye wink at him from beneath the black beret. “What took you so long?” It wasn't the time or place to discuss it, but but he was ever so grateful his partner wasn't dead.

“I found myself in a bit of a soggy situation, if you had not noticed.” Illya turned his attention to Angelique.

“Now Madam if you will do as we agreed please?”

“What’s that?” Napoleon, rubbing his wrists as the handcuffs were removed.

“She is to pretend that you overtook her, that way she cannot be implicated in your escape.”

And why said assistance?” Napoleon looked to her.

“Castex cannot be allowed to succeed darling. He plans to do away with me once he becomes a member of the T.H.R.U.S.H. Council and that just won’t do.”

“Oh so a little power play going on,” Napoleon smiled. “And what exactly is the benefit to U.N.C.L.E. in this little endeavor?”

“Why your lives of course.”

“Oh is that all? Solo pulled her to him, kissing her hard.

“Enough! We have to go,” Illya hissed.

Napoleon took Angelique by the hands, gently lowering her to the ground, and putting his handcuffs on her wrists.

“Sorry Angelique, but I lied,” Illya smiled, aiming his rifle at her and shooting her with a sleep dart right in her rump.

“You little Russian bastarrrrrr….”

Kuryakin had promised to let the Castex Experiment remain intact but that he wasn't about to let happen.

Without another word, Solo grabbed one of the other rifles and headed back to the bunker entrance, punching the entry code in the door.

“Illya I saw you go overboard as the yacht was foundering. How did you survive?” Napoleon whispered.

“I swam beneath the boat to retrieve diving gear that I had secured to the hull in anticipation of having to perform some night maneuvers in order to assist you. Once I was able to put on the equipment, I remained underwater until the storm subsided, though I found it necessary to evade their search teams along with a few sharks,"

“Clever Russian.”

“Nice of you to notice.”

The two headed down the darkened grey corridor, entering the control room, though finding it empty.

Illya began studying the controls, marveling at it. attempting to ascertain what he could do to rewire it to make it overload, should the system go on-line again. "I think T.H.R.U.S.H. has outdone themselves this time. This is a very complicated machine."

“Don’t bother tovarisch.” Napoleon pointed to the buttons on his vest.” They missed these when they searched me.”

Solo popped off the black buttons and as he and Illya stepped back, he tossed them at the controls. They exploded, destroying most of it, and the rest began to burn.

Behind them, they suddenly heard a high pitched scream like the yowling of a banshee. In charged Honey Dearest; her eyes wide like a mad woman.

She dove at Napoleon, doing a cartwheel and when swinging her legs around she caught him in a scissor lock, squeezing the life out of him with her powerful muscles. The rifle dropped from his hands as he tried to break the grip she had on him. He pushed her backwards, slamming her hard against the wall, but nothing seemed to faze her.

Illya dropped to one knee, aimed his rifle and fired, hitting the woman directly in the forehead; not with a sleep dart but a live round.

Napoleon pulled himself free, looking down at her while shaking his head. “What a waste.”

They dashed back out the bunker exit, discovering Angelique was no longer there. The air around the two agents was unexpectedly whipped as a helicopter whirred past them. It hovered, turning and faced their direction.

“Down!” Illya yelled, spotting the armaments on the chopper.

Rockets whizzed overhead, yet the agents apparently weren’t the target. On the upper terrace the mansion exploded with a loud boom, followed by another before the helicopter turned away and disappeared into the distance.

“Okay,” Napoleon said, brushing himself off as he rose, offering a hand to help his partner rise.”What just happened?”

“Good question,” Illya shook his head.

Taking the elevator to the upper terrace, they found what was left of the smoldering house. The body of Emile-Georges Castex was lying dead beside the pool...he’d been shot, but who did the shooting?"

“Angelique,” Napoleon whispered his suspicion aloud.

“One can only presume my friend.”

After a thorough search, her body wasn’t found, neither was the body of Theo Boucher or that of Peadar, the doctor's assistant.

“This affair isn’t over by any means,” Napoleon said. “I suspect Peadar knows Castex’s secrets and if he’s with Boucher...”

Suddenly they again heard the sound of helicopter blades behind them, perhaps returning to finish the job?

It landed beside the pool and Angelique stepped out; her meticulous hair undone in the breeze.

“Well darlings are you coming?” She beckoned them to the chopper.

Illya cast a nervous glance to his partner, wondering what she had in mind for his darting her.

“Oh don’t worry Kuryakin, I forgive you this time.”

Napoleon shrugged response.”Why look a gift horse in the mouth chum.”

They climbed on board the chopper, heading off with Angelique who suggested they take a little time off, and relax in the islands.

“I think we need to get back to New York, though the idea is enticing,” Napoleon said.”Angelique, why the rescue?”

“Oh you two did me a favor. You destroyed Castex’s machine which is what I expected to you do. I never thought you'd agree not to Kuryakin. And me...I took care of the little man myself. yet U.N.C.L.E. takes the blame for it with T.H.R.U.S.H. All part of my plan, really. _Et voila,_ my position with Central remains secure."

Napoleon made a point of not mentioning Peadar or Boucher...

“Makes sense,” Illya nodded to Angelique.”A brilliant plan. A successful power play and getting us to do your dirty work for you."

“You know darling that’s one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me…”

“Try not to get used to it,”Illya said as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, closing his eyes.


End file.
